


Spring Blossoms

by OhZee



Series: The Scent of You [2]
Category: Wiedźmin | The Witcher - All Media Types
Genre: Alpha Geralt z Rivii | Geralt of Rivia, Alpha/Omega, Established Relationship, Geralt drinks his respect omegas juice, Jaskier doesn't put up with anyone's shit though, Knotting, M/M, Non-Traditional Alpha/Beta/Omega Dynamics, Omega Jaskier | Dandelion, Omega Verse, Past Attempted Rape/Non-Con, Protective Geralt z Rivii | Geralt of Rivia, Rimming, Valdo Marx Being an Asshole, mentioned briefly - Freeform, this is a healthy relationship
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2021-02-17
Updated: 2021-02-17
Packaged: 2021-03-13 01:12:54
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 5,193
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/29518590
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/OhZee/pseuds/OhZee
Summary: After a long winter apart, Jaskier is very happy to see his chosen alpha when Geralt reunites with him in Oxenfurt. But Jaskier has had some unexpected problems during his semester as a professor, and his problems have a name: Valdo Marx.
Relationships: Geralt z Rivii | Geralt of Rivia/Jaskier | Dandelion
Series: The Scent of You [2]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1942909
Comments: 19
Kudos: 471





	Spring Blossoms

It hadn’t technically been a long winter. In all truth, it had been somewhat shorter than usual, the spring thaw arriving with a fervor that left the snows and frost with little strength to cling. But for Jaskier, it had felt like the longest winter of his life. 

He hadn’t relished separating from Geralt three and a half months earlier, but they’d both had things to do that required them to be on separate sides of the continent. Geralt had Kaer Morhen, with his brother witchers and Vesemir, who Geralt had told Jaskier a little about. Geralt had been keen to see them, something Jaskier could never fault him for. And Jaskier had a teaching position in Oxenfurt he’d been pleased to fill for the semester, the coin welcome and the presence of fellow and future bards stoking the fires of his creativity.

Unfortunately, certain unexpected factors had made his stay in Oxenfurt less pleasant than normal, and even the salary didn’t go as far as he’d initially hoped. With Geralt gone, he once again had to regularly buy scent blockers, and the prices in Oxenfurt were more expensive than he’d remembered, by quite a lot. By an unreasonable amount, even. In fact, he suspected the prices had increased just before he’d arrived, or perhaps even increased only for _him_. It sounded paranoid to say aloud, but it really wasn’t out of the question, considering all the factors at play.

So winter had dragged on. But eventually the roads were clear, and Jaskier found himself glancing out his window more and more often, anxious to catch a glimpse of his lover.

Then, finally, Geralt arrived.

When Jaskier saw him coming in the late afternoon, he raced down the stairs like a schoolboy. They met in the street, coming together like two rivers converging. They separated only far enough to kiss, the taste of each other blossoming on their lips like spring itself.

“Has it really only been three months?” he murmured as they parted for air. “Felt like so much longer.”

Geralt only tightened his grip, making a rumbling noise that Jaskier easily read as agreement. “Too long,” he finally murmured, finding words that sometimes escaped him when emotions ran too high.

“Yes. Too long.” Jaskier kissed him again, fervently, and Geralt nearly lifted him off his feet in his enthusiasm to return it. It didn’t take long for his body to begin to ache, months of suppressed desire coming to the fore in his alpha’s embrace. Geralt ducked his head, burying his nose in Jaskier’s neck and breathing deep. His scent spiked, surrounding Jaskier in a heady fog of alpha desire. Jaskier’s own lust spiked in turn.

Groaning, he pushed away far enough to get a good grip on Geralt’s armor and begin tugging.

“Let’s get Roach stabled so I can show you how much I’ve missed you.”

They just barely managed to hand Roach over to the stableboy before they dragged each other back upstairs to Jaskier’s apartments. 

Jaskier didn’t waste any time stripping off his clothes. Geralt followed suit, but faltered and slowed to a stop as he hungrily watched the progressive revelation of Jaskier’s skin. Jaskier slowed a little in his movements, teasing, putting on a show. The desire in Geralt’s eyes was extremely gratifying.

Jaskier turned his back to Geralt as he dropped his smalls to the floor, bending just far enough to give Geralt a very nice view of his backside. Predictably, Geralt could only contain himself for so long at such temptation, and he moved forward, intent on touching everything Jaskier was putting on offer. But Jaskier turned and placed a hand to Geralt’s chest, halting him.

“Wait,” said Jaskier. It was satisfying as always when Geralt did so without question, confused but never pushy or insistent as so many alphas were. If Jaskier had possessed any doubts about what he planned to do next, they were settled in that moment.

Yet he was still distantly amazed at his own daring as he crawled onto the bed on his hands and knees. He lowered his face and chest to the mattress, looking back at Geralt heatedly as he pushed his arse in the air, back arched and legs spread wide. 

A year ago, Jaskier would have considered the position an insult and would have refused to perform it for anyone. It was the traditional way an omega was meant to present himself to his betrothed alpha upon his deflowering, and it was representative of the sort of regressive, backwards values that Jaskier despised. But now that he was with an alpha he’d chosen of his own volition, an alpha who loved him and would never harm him, the traditional position had suddenly taken on a certain… appeal. More accurately, he’d had wet dreams about Geralt taking him like this since they’d parted, and they were the first wet dreams he’d had in years. The persistence of them over the winter had gotten him so worked up that now that they were finally here, the anticipation already had him slick and hard and wanting.

The witcher’s pupils were blown wide, a surprised, hungry noise escaping his throat that made Jaskier shiver. That reaction was all _alpha_.

Geralt finished stripping down with astonishing speed and moved onto the bed with a predator’s grace, expression intent. His hands slowly slid up the backs of Jaskier’s thighs, savoring his offering, before coming to rest on the globes of his arse. With a low, pleased hum, he dipped his thumbs into the crevice, pulling the cheeks apart to reveal Jaskier’s slick hole, throbbing with need. Then his thumbs slipped further, sinking inside and pulling him wide and open.

Jaskier keened, the sensation of it blanking out his mind in primal pleasure. Somewhere deep below rational thought, the part of Jaskier that was purely _omega_ purred in satisfaction.

Geralt made another noise, a rumbling sort of approval, before plunging his tongue as deep inside as it would go. Jaskier shouted, fists clenching in the sheets, cock twitching. It always felt so overwhelming when Geralt did this, and Geralt loved to do it. Loved Jaskier’s reaction, loved the taste of Jaskier’s slick. There’d been more than one incident where Geralt had never even gotten around to fucking him, just ate him out until his jaw was aching and Jaskier couldn’t come anymore.

Jaskier sincerely hoped this was not one of those times, though. As insanely pleasurable as it was, everything in Jaskier ached to feel Geralt’s cock sink into him. Gods, he needed–

As if reading his mind, Geralt pulled back with a final long lick and positioned himself, nearly as impatient as Jaskier. He pushed inside insistently and, feeling half-mad with desperation, Jaskier pushed his hips back, helping to impale himself with a long, low moan.

“Eager,” Geralt huffed behind him, amused and pleased, the way his fingers dug hard into Jaskier’s hips betraying his own eagerness.

“Missed you,” Jaskier groaned breathlessly. His cock dripped precum onto the bed.

Geralt’s breath hitched, his fingers twitching once. “Missed you too,” he said, voice thick with a rare tenderness.

Then he rolled his hips and began to fuck Jaskier in earnest.

Every thrust was bliss, pulling Jaskier higher and higher toward his peak. Nothing else satisfied him like this anymore; his fingers were a very poor substitute, and no naughty toy even came close. The thought of taking anyone else to his bed failed to arouse him at all these days. Geralt had ruined him, and Jaskier had never been so thrilled to be ruined. Nothing was better than this, the pleasure of it running white-hot behind his eyes, his mouth uttering a stream of approving filth without his conscious thought.

One stroke of Geralt’s big, calloused hand around his cock flung him over the edge, making him come in pulsing sheets as Geralt plunged into him once, twice, thrice more, his knot catching hard as he bent over Jaskier, muffling his roar in a bite to Jaskier’s shoulder.

It felt incredible, but his scent gland pulsed hard, just once, as if disappointed with its neglect. It blindsided Jaskier, just how much he suddenly wanted Geralt to bite him properly. It wasn’t the time for it anyway, but maybe… maybe if Geralt was amenable, he wouldn’t take suppressants for a while. They could plan it so they were somewhere comfortable when Jaskier went into heat, and he’d ask…

But it was too much to think about now, his mind giving up on much of anything as he simply revelled, the pleasure nearly as slow to ebb as his alpha’s knot, which was buried so perfectly snugly inside him, exactly where it belonged.

After a few long moments to catch their breath, Geralt kissed the bruise he’d left on Jaskier’s shoulder and gently rolled them onto their sides. Geralt held him close, nuzzling his neck and mumbling praise about how good Jaskier felt, how sexy he looked bent over for him like that. Jaskier flushed with pride, his inner omega warm with deep satisfaction.

They spent the remainder of the day lazing about in bed, catching up, having sex, and eating what few provisions Jaskier kept in his room. By the next morning they were both ravenous, and forced to venture out earlier than Jaskier normally would have. And so a grumbling bard and an amused witcher made their way to the first of the little stalls opening along the promenade in the thick morning fog and bought a simple breakfast of meat pies that they ate while walking and watching other vendors set up their stalls.

They’d just finished eating, and the fog was only just beginning to clear when Jaskier noticed the figure approaching them and stiffened. 

He checked himself nearly as quickly, forcing himself to adopt a casual posture, not about to be caught, now or ever, looking like he feared Valdo fucking Marx.

But Geralt didn’t miss it, his sharp eyes following Jaskier’s to Valdo and fixing there.

Later, Jaskier would revel in the memory of Valdo’s face as he got close enough to see Geralt properly and smell them both. The smug, predatory expression he so often wore around Jaskier dropped away and he paled like sour milk, eyes darting between Jaskier and the witcher beside him. The witcher whose threatening scent Jaskier was now drenched in.

Geralt stepped closer to Jaskier, very much in his personal space. He didn’t lay a hand on him, but he didn’t have to. The message was clear. Part of Jaskier resented it, hated that it was necessary. Another part of him crowed in vicious delight at the way Valdo nearly tripped over his own feet, stumbling to a stop a small distance away.

“Valdo,” he greeted cheerily, a vindictive edge just coloring his tone. “You haven’t met my alpha, Geralt of Rivia. Geralt, this is Valdo Marx. He… sings.”

At any other time, a remark like that would have been an invitation for immediate retaliation from Valdo. He would have been deliberately cruel and cutting in ways not always obvious to a casual observer. Jaskier was all too accustomed to the way Valdo would look at him when he did, something threatening behind his eyes as he smiled for any witnesses, apparently unruffled.

This time, Valdo just stared at Geralt wide-eyed and looked like he might piss himself. It was deeply gratifying.

As for Geralt, he didn’t even glance at Jaskier in surprise at being introduced as his alpha, which was telling. It wasn’t something they did. The obvious mingling of their scents was useful in keeping blatant harassment at bay, but beyond that, they introduced each other by name alone and let people make their own assumptions. Jaskier only called Geralt _alpha_ in the bedroom, which was the only place it felt appropriate. Only traditionalists insisted on calling each other by their designations in public, though the world was unfortunately full of such people. But Geralt had easily caught on that Jaskier felt unsafe around Valdo, and was more than willing to play the possessive alpha.

It wasn’t entirely play, either. Geralt’s instincts would have demanded he protect his lover even if Jaskier were not an omega. So Geralt said nothing and instead stared silently at Valdo, his golden eyes seeming to glow in the fog.

Valdo made a valiant, but sad attempt at recovery, pasting on a smile that looked too much like a grimace and achieving only a mockery of his usual confident poise. It looked painful.

“Ch-charmed, yes. About time someone’s finally tamed Julian here, eh?”

It was a poor joke – in that it wasn’t really a joke at all – and it did nothing to lighten the mood or endear him to Geralt as it was designed to. Geralt’s eyes narrowed minutely at the blatant insult to Jaskier, his lip pulling back in distaste.

Valdo somehow managed to blanch a shade paler, belatedly realizing that the witcher did not quite hold to the same views. He should have known better, Jaskier thought. He should have known full well that Jaskier would never enter into a relationship with an alpha like– Well, to an alpha like _Valdo_.

Attempting to backpedal, Valdo laughed nervously. “Just kidding, of course! Always a firecracker, our Julian. I’m sure you must appreciate it,” he finished with a wink.

Another joke that was not a joke, the insinuation subtle but not nearly subtle enough.

Geralt’s curled lip morphed into something closer to an outright snarl, and Jaskier had to grab his arm to abort his sudden movement toward the awful cad in their presence. Valdo took a hasty step back, but a glance at Jaskier’s hand on Geralt’s arm had his eyes flashing with some kind of contempt, and it seemed to give him courage. He rallied, laughing with poorly hidden nerves.

“Well, I do apologize for intruding on your morning, Master Witcher. I do hope you enjoy your stay in Oxenfurt.” Notably, he did not include Jaskier in his well-wishes before he sketched a bow and beat a hasty retreat.

“Who was he?” Geralt asked the moment they were back in Jaskier’s apartment.

“Valdo Marx, the troubador of Cidaris. Grade-A arsehole and talentless hack.”

“No. I mean, who is he to you? Why does he frighten you?”

Jaskier had known what he meant, and wanted rather defensively to claim that Valdo didn’t frighten him. But it was a lie he knew he couldn’t get past Geralt. He sighed, resigned. Sitting on the bed, he patted the space next to him for Geralt to join him.

Still tense, Geralt nonetheless obliged, patiently anticipating Jaskier’s explanation. It wasn’t a story Jaskier was eager to tell, but if anyone deserved an explanation, Geralt did.

“Valdo was in the same year as me in school. We were rivals from the get-go, but just in the way kids are at first. Then when I was fifteen, I presented as an omega over break. Valdo presented as an alpha around the same time. When we arrived back to school the next semester, my parents had given me scent blockers, so Valdo presumed I was a beta. He thought his designation proved that he was superior to me and tried to lord it over me. Stupid me, I corrected him. I wasn’t the least bit ashamed of my designation and I was unwilling to back down to soothe his ego. I told him I was an omega, and my compositions were still better than his, and I was still a better singer, and he could take his superiority complex and stuff it.”

Geralt made a small, amused huff that made Jaskier smile. This wasn’t a happy story though, and the smile was short-lived. 

“He was infuriated. Swore he’d teach me _my place_. I thought he was all hot air until he and a couple of his alpha friends caught me alone behind the music hall and cornered me.”

Jaskier could see Geralt’s jaw clench and his expression darken. He looked like he’d cheerfully tear Valdo Marx into pieces with his bare hands if Jaskier said the word. Jaskier put a soothing hand on his arm and took a deep breath.

“I got away. Barely. They made it plain what they intended and I fought. I think they’d expected me to be meek once I was overcome by their combined scents, like some omega damsel in a story.” Geralt snorted derisively and Jaskier flashed him a little smirk. It was a stupid, childish thing to believe, but it had worked to Jaskier’s advantage.

“It caught them off guard when I was furious instead. I got in a few good blows, escaped and ran all the way back to my dorm.”

Geralt pulled Jaskier’s hand into his own, twining their fingers. Jaskier wasn’t sure if it was meant to comfort him or Geralt, but he appreciated it either way, offering Geralt a little squeeze.

“I told my friends what happened. Told the resident assistant. They all believed me, but they advised me against filing a complaint even though I wanted to. Valdo is related to the dean, and they knew if I complained he’d turn it around on me somehow. I’d be the one kicked out, not him. So I didn’t complain. I stayed silent and endured two more years of Valdo Marx trying to get me alone again and sabotaging me in any way he could. At one point he managed to steal my bag with my songbook still in it, and he passed off all my work as his own. I wasn’t able to contest the theft, and ended up looking like something of a fool for trying.”

It still angered Jaskier to think about. There were still songs he couldn’t sing and could barely stand to recall because Valdo had claimed them and maimed them. It was a violation of significance to a bard. Geralt’s stiffened posture and his involuntary twitch around Jaskier’s hand conveyed well enough that Geralt understood that well.

“These days he stays in Cidaris at court, but this semester he was invited back by the dean to teach an introductory course. He’s more subtle than he used to be. Usually he just insults me publicly and passes it off as constructive criticism or supposed concern. I’m too famous now for him to get away with much overt action.” 

Jaskier took a deep breath, lips thinning. 

“But if his pride was stung before, he’s seething now. I’m more famous than him by a long shot, more popular and well-regarded. He went through a lot of trouble to steal the court appointment in Cidaris from me, yet I still managed not just to succeed, but to outdo him by every measure. He hates me for it. I have no doubt he’d hurt me if he were given the opportunity and a way to avoid accountability.” 

He sighed, long and weary, slumping. “I’ve been on eggshells because of him all winter.”

Geralt’s expression was foreboding, his scent thick in the air. Jaskier was reminded of the storm again; a lashing, angry thing that blew soft and warm only around Jaskier. 

“Has he tried anything?” Geralt asked.

Jaskier nearly said no, but thought again of his recent troubles and hesitated.

“I’m not sure,” he admitted. “Like I said, he’s learned subtlety. You know how much I was looking forward to putting some money away this winter?”

Geralt nodded.

“Well, I don’t have nearly as much as I’d hoped. Not by a long shot. Mostly because scent blockers and heat suppressants in Oxenfurt have apparently tripled in price since I was here last,” he said with scathing ruefulness.

That made Geralt scowl. “Tripled? There shouldn’t be any call for that. The ingredients are plentiful, there’s no shortage.”

“I know. I also know it’s _just_ in the city, not elsewhere in the province, much good it’s done me when I haven’t had the time to travel to a nearby village, even if the weather had allowed it. And frankly, I can’t be sure if the prices have gone up for all omegas… or just me. I haven’t heard a peep of outrage from any other of the city’s residents, as I’d expect there to be with such obvious price gouging. And if you’ll recall, Valdo is related to the dean. They both have some, shall we say, _sway_ when it comes to doing things like influencing local shopkeepers against a particular customer.”

Geralt stood abruptly, fists clenched. His anger filled the room, the wild scent of it potent and powerful. Jaskier found it soothing. He reached out to touch Geralt’s arm lightly before he could storm out into the street looking for Valdo, meeting his molten eyes.

“I can’t be sure. There’s no proof of anything I could bring to any official, even if all the local officials didn’t all owe favors to the dean.”

“I could get proof,” Geralt insisted, “I could make them confess.”

Jaskier was sure he could. He could too easily imagine the same shopkeepers who’d been so recalcitrant with him spilling their guts to a glowering witcher. But he shook his head.

“There’s no use dwelling on it. What’s done is done and even proof wouldn’t necessarily get me my money back. Besides, we’re leaving soon and I won’t be coming back.”

Geralt looked surprised at that. “Why not? You love Oxenfurt.”

Jaskier smiled bitterly. “Everyone knows there’s conflict between me and Marx, but the dean deliberately didn’t tell me he was here until I arrived. I still love the city, but it’s clear I can’t trust my employer, so teaching is out. At least until the old fucker kicks it,” he shrugged.

Geralt opened his mouth to say something but abruptly aborted it, jaw clenched as he looked away. Jaskier chuckled, taking one of his hands and turning his face back toward him.

“No, Geralt. You can’t _encourage_ him to kick it a little prematurely. As angry as you are about this – and I do appreciate that – you’d never forgive yourself. The man is a self-serving arse, but not a monster.”

Very briefly, Geralt looked surprised, then softened. “You know me too well,” he whispered.

Ultimately, Geralt let it go, but he was clearly unhappy about it still. Jaskier couldn’t blame him. He’d be lying if he claimed to be very happy about it himself, but he’d long learned how to choose his battles, reluctant as he’d always been to allow any injustice to prevail. If he set Geralt against Valdo or the dean, it wouldn’t be a personal victory. It would only reinforce the regressive view that omegas need alphas to do everything for them, and there was ultimately too little gain in it to make it worth it.

No, they’d spend the last few leisurely days of the semester in Oxenfurt as Jaskier graded his student’s finals and tied up his loose ends, and then they’d be on their way, free of the shadier side of Oxenfurt’s social politics and together on the road, as they were meant to be.

He should have known that was just a mite too hopeful and clean.

Their last day in the city, Jaskier had gone ahead to the tavern while Geralt swung by the stables to check on Roach. They’d loaded up on the supplies they needed and were nearly ready to head out. Just one more night to enjoy in Oxenfurt, and they’d agreed that a few drinks were in order.

Halfway through his first pint, Jaskier was watching the door, expecting Geralt, when Valdo Marx walked in. It would have been too much to hope that Valdo wouldn’t see him, but even with Jaskier seated by the wall – a position Geralt preferred to give him a good view of the room – Valdo managed to spot him almost immediately. He looked briefly surprised to see Jaskier, or possibly only surprised to see him alone.

Unfortunately, Geralt’s absence seemed to give Valdo all the courage he needed to muster up his usual arrogance. He went to the bar to order himself a drink and, once served, he sauntered over directly to Jaskier’s table. Jaskier cursed silently, but ignored him in favor of his ale. The tavern was too crowded for Valdo to really try anything other than words. And Jaskier was well prepared for those.

“What a pleasant surprise,” Valdo drawled, leaning his hip against the table and setting his drink down as if he’d been invited. “I hadn’t thought your alpha would let you out of bed for another week, much less unsupervised. He does seem rather lax with you, doesn’t he?”

Jaskier smiled thinly, very nearly amused. It seemed Valdo had been stung enough by their previous encounter that he’d abandoned subtlety altogether and decided to go straight for the throat. It wasn’t a good look. 

He nearly said as much, but then, to his incredulous shock, Valdo reached out and yanked the collar of Jaskier’s doublet aside, revealing his unmarked neck. Jaskier jerked away, a cry of outrage tearing from him that brought the immediate attention of the nearby patrons. His heart was set to racing, caught utterly off guard by the sheer audacity of the move. Never did he imagine that Valdo would be bold enough to publicly assault him. Valdo either didn’t notice or didn’t care about the attention he was attracting, sneering maliciously as he loomed over the table into Jaskier’s space, crowding him against the wall. 

“Unclaimed still, Julian? How does your witcher expect other alphas to keep their hands off you? Or perhaps he doesn’t care. Perhaps he likes to share you around.”

Jaskier saw red. He stood abruptly, forcing Valdo to startle back to avoid being headbutted. He opened his mouth to tell Valdo just how tiny and unsatisfactory his mighty alpha cock must be since he’d failed to formally court not one, not two, but _six_ omegas, but Valdo was suddenly removed violently from his space, jerked backward so harshly he was choked by his own doublet. He flailed, barely keeping his feet, his head swiveling to yell at the interloper. He was met by burning golden eyes and bared teeth.

Geralt looked like he was ready to commit murder in the middle of the tavern. His scent was overpowering, filled with unmistakable rage. Valdo visibly shrank in Geralt’s grip, making a pathetic noise. Jaskier held his breath. The whole tavern had gone silent, every eye drawn nervously to the angry witcher.

“Or perhaps,” growled Geralt in a voice that made Jaskier shiver and the people nearest them lean away in their seats, “I expect people to have enough common decency to keep their hands to themselves. Since that seems beyond you, perhaps you no longer have need of your hands.”

Then he turned and physically dragged Valdo from the tavern, out the back door. Valdo shouted in panicked protest but no one moved to intervene. No one was crazy enough to try. They disappeared, the door banging shut behind them. A beat passed, then the whole tavern seemed to sigh in relief, slowly going back to their business.

“Fuck,” breathed Jaskier, and belatedly rushed after them.

He didn’t have to go far. When Jaskier burst into the alley behind the tavern, Geralt had Valdo pinned to the opposite wall. Valdo’s feet were only just brushing against the ground where they kicked, frantic in their movements, his eyes wide and rolling with fear like a panicky animal.

“–ever touch him again,” Geralt was snarling, “if you even _look_ at him wrong, I will cut your cock off, and I will _make you eat it_.”

The smell of urine filled the alley. Valdo had quite literally pissed himself this time. Jaskier couldn’t blame him. Even Jaskier might have been terrified of Geralt like this had he not been so certain that Geralt would never harm a single hair on his head.

“Do you understand, you snivelling little shit?” Geralt demanded, shaking him roughly. Valdo whipped his head up and down so hard Jaskier thought his neck might snap.

“Good.” Geralt threw him aside like a rag doll. Valdo scrambled to his feet, stumbling clumsily in his panic. For a moment, his fearful eyes caught on Jaskier before he tore them away hurriedly. He broke into a run, leaving a dribbling trail of piss behind him.

“Are you done defending my honor?” Jaskier asked once Valdo was out of sight.

Geralt turned to look at him, features softened and a little unsure. “...Yes. Are you angry?”

Jaskier kind of wanted to be. It would have been nice if he’d gotten the chance to punch Valdo right there in the middle of the tavern. He still wanted to show the world he could fight his own battles, that his omega status didn’t define him. But Jaskier was older and wiser than he used to be, and so much wearier of fighting. He didn’t have anything to prove to anyone. If Geralt wanted to fight for him sometimes, because he loved him? Then he could only be grateful.

And frankly, the omega in him was rather unreasonably turned on by the protective display.

“No,” he said, smiling affectionately. “Thank you.”

He pressed close, leaning in for a kiss. Geralt returned it with enthusiasm, strong arms wrapping around him, hands capable of such violence pressing tenderly against him.

“Take me back to my rooms, alpha,” he murmured against Geralt’s lips when they broke for air. Geralt’s eyes widened, his grip tightening. “I want you to fuck me so hard the whole school can hear us.”

Geralt blinked hard, then turned with haste, ushering him hurriedly through the streets with a hand at the small of his back. Jaskier laughed delightedly and picked up the pace.

Later, after they’d scandalized the entire staff and doubtlessly entertained a good portion of the remaining students, the dean had come knocking, red-faced with either anger or embarrassment. Possibly both. Jaskier couldn’t tell. He also couldn’t bring himself to care as he answered the door in his smalls, unrepentant and smiling guilelessly. The man had surely planned to yell, but he’d taken one look at Geralt staring at him where he’d propped himself against the headboard, inhaled the thick scents of sex and _alpha witcher_ , and began stumbling over his words. Jaskier _thought_ he was being given a stern warning about his conduct, but he couldn’t be sure.

The dean made a clumsy exit, and Jaskier gazed after him a moment. The cowardly way he hastened away reminded him so vividly of the way Valdo had done so earlier that Jaskier figured he could finally see the family resemblance. Amused, Jaskier closed the door and returned to bed, snuggling up to Geralt and basking in their mingled scents. Geralt wrapped him in his arms and hummed contentedly.

The next morning, as they were packing to leave, Geralt embraced him from behind, nuzzling at his ear.

“Next winter, come to Kaer Morhen with me,” he murmured. Jaskier considered, very briefly. Then he turned to kiss him and told him he had never heard a better plan in his life.


End file.
